


Let It Be.

by Lennonspecs (orphan_account)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm worried, M/M, Oneshot, Third Wattpad repost, build up to AIDS, depressing again, freddie's worried, i do a lot of jimercury work, i needed to get that off of my chest, i'm british so i might spell things weirdly, jim's worried, one of my older ones so it might be happier, this one's slightly longer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 11:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18475348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lennonspecs
Summary: Jim's final years with Freddie.





	Let It Be.

It wasn't noticeable in the beginning.

It was only Freddie refusing to touch someone or how he would just happen to fall asleep before Roger's party started. It was the way he would hug Jim for a few moments longer than normal or would constantly ask how he was feeling. 

"Any nausea? Or headaches?"

"Are you sure that you're feeling alright? You promise that you're not just telling me that for the sake of it?"

Of course, he would just brush it off with a mention of how Jim normally caught the flu around winter or that Brian's wife had caught a stomach bug and he wanted to make sure Jim wasn't out working in the garden when he should be in bed.

 

Then there were mood swings.

 

Sudden bursts of emotion that no one would see coming. He would be alright one minute, a wreck the next. Freddie had always experienced mood swings, particularly around big tour dates or an awards show or if the latest album wasn't gliding through the recording process as much as he wanted. But they were never like that. Jim could remember the worst one. It was in the evening and Freddie, seeming to be completely fine and happy, had headed into the living room. Then there was a loud, inaudible shouting coming from that very room. Jim, followed by one or two cats who were curious about the origin of the sudden shouting, entered the room to see Freddie facing the TV, his back to Jim. One hand was clutching at the back of his short hair, in what looked like anguish. "Dear Lord Freddie, what's up with you?" Jim had asked, staring at his boyfriend in confusion. Freddie nearly leapt across the room in shock, quickly jabbing at the TV to turn it off from whatever was being shown. He swiveled around, sharply wiping his eyes in the process. "Nothing, dear. I see that you brought Romeo with you, hm?" 

There was clearly something wrong with him. But Freddie simply dismissed it as a 'tad too much to drink' or, when he was feeling in a more cheerful mood, his 'menopause'. No one decided to question it. Maybe they had their suspicions but didn't want to admit it.

 

Eventually people started to have definite suspicions. Friends would whisper behind Freddie's back. They had all seen the reports of the AIDS epidemic - which was labeled as "The Gay Plague". Jim could tell that people were talking about Freddie because of how quickly they would fall into silence whenever him or his boyfriend would walk into the room and simply stare as if they were a deer caught in headlights. Freddie noticed too.

"Why the fuck do they have to discuss me? My life is none of their fucking business."

"Have they ever heard of privacy? They just can't fucking help themselves, can they?"

But they weren't the only ones who were asking questions. The press were doing the same thing too. But in a much more, open manner. Soon articles were appearing everywhere, each one humiliating the man even further.

"Queen's Queen and His Gay Fury"

"Somebody To Love? Or Somebody To Take To Bed?"

"Mercury Wasn't Enough For Him, Now He Wants Uranus!"

Each headline lead to a money grabbing story, which lead to Freddie becoming even more upset and unraveled by the day. Quotes were being fired out, people who neither Jim or Freddie ever knew decided to come forward with their own stories about Mr Mercury's Irish loverboy. Cameras followed the frontman's every move, snapping at any opportunity when they thought he looked a shade paler than the day before. It became so bad that a small group of paparazzi chose to camp outside of Garden Lodge, desperate for any news that may suggest The Persian's health was failing him. It was like they wanted him to be dying.

 

On top of that, Jim noticed how red Freddie's eyes would be. It was clear that he was constantly crying but any confrontation would be denied. However it was the crying that confirmed Jim's niggling thoughts. It happened when Peter Straker had arrived at Garden Lodge for a quick visit. Freddie adored Peter. The pair were having a lighthearted conversation at the dinner table, filled with shrieking laughter and the Persian enjoying himself for the first time in a while. Then the radio flicked on to the latest headlines, updating everyone on the epidemic.

"AIDS claims five more known victims only a few weeks after being diagnosed with the killer disease."

Freddie's face drained of colour and his smile dropped, the atmosphere instantly changing in the room. He then excused himself from the table. Both Peter and Jim picked up on the sudden shakiness of the man's hands and the wavering of his voice. Peter immediately questioned how he was feeling.

"What? Don't be silly darling, I just need to head off of the bathroom for a minute. If you really want to know."

He had departed with a forced chuckle, leaving his boyfriend and best friend in a cold silence. Jim got up and turned off the radio, neither man choosing to speak about what they had just witnessed. Five minutes later Freddie returned with a strained smile and red eyes. 

 

One thing about Freddie was that he always wanted a lover. Not just a sexual one, not the random strangers who would collapse in his hotel room and be gone within the morning, a proper lover. The kind of person who would be affectionate towards him and who would stand by him no matter what. The kind of person who Freddie could give his everything to and they would love him unconditionally in return. So once he finally found Jim after years of going through troubled, one-sided or sometimes even abusive and controlling relationships, it was likely that he would cling on for as long as possible. Freddie had a small bit of neediness for Jim, easily falling into jealously if he spotted him with another man and often double checking that Jim really did love him. But he had never been at the point where he needed to be by Jim's side at all times possible.

Three knocks. Three knocks for three am.

The knocks were so soft, Jim nearly believed that he had dreamt them. He was spending the night in The Pink Room due to it being almost certain that he would be snoring that night. Snoring kept up Freddie and a tired Freddie called for a very difficult Freddie the following morning. So, in an effort to spare the residents of Garden Lodge and potentially the band, Jim opted to allow the Persian a decent night's sleep. 

Then the knocks came again, slightly louder this time. But with the air of a nervous child. The Irishman pushed away all of his confusion and fatigue and pulled himself out of bed to open the door. To his surprise, an exhausted Freddie was standing at the other side. 

"Why are you here? What's going on, Fred?"

The reply didn't come straight away. Instead the frontman hovered in the doorway, anxiously wringing his hands together.

"I just wanted to spend some time with you."

Jim shook his head in disbelief but stepped aside, allowing Freddie to enter the room. He couldn't help to think that it was all a bit odd. Someone who was presenting to be sober knocking on his bedroom door in the early hours of the morning because they wanted to spend time together, despite already having been together for the whole day. What made it even stranger was how out of place Freddie seemed to be. He was standing in a room in his house but he looked like an awkward visitor. He was standing by the bed, his arms hanging by his side while peering around nervously, beaming a grin when Jim looked up at him. 

"So... What exactly do you want at this time?"

"I- I was missing you." 

"Oh... Alright." 

"I don't have to stay if you don't want me to. I mean- I don't really know what I'm doing. I am just a bit all over the place. Sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep." Rushed Freddie, throwing out a weak smile. 

"No, no, it's fine. You may as well stay now that you're here." Murmured Jim. It was at that moment that he noticed how Freddie's clothes were hanging a little bit looser than normal. His pyjama bottoms were nearly sliding down his waist that was covered by a baggy shirt. His arms were noticeably slimmer as well as blue veins protruding more prominently from his hands. There was also an ominous dark mark forming on his left cheekbone.

"Are you feeling alright?" Jim found himself saying. "You look a bit... Well, you look a bit worn out."

"Of course I'm feeling alright, my dear. Everything's tickety boo. Anyway, I was wondering if I could have the honour of kipping down here with you. I haven't slept here in a while and you're here of course, so I thought why not? You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course I don't mind. Why would I?" 

"I don't know." Whispered Freddie, absent mindedly getting into the bed and snuggling down into the pillows. 

As pleasant as the scene was, Jim felt as if there was something off. Like the calm before the storm. He was right.

 

It wasn't easy. Nothing ever is. As soon as the confession has been said, there's no going back. Once Freddie's passing had gone through, Jim came to the conclusion that Freddie's desperation to stay living in the fantasy where he was healthy and happy was the reasoning behind not coming clean straightaway. If no one else knew, he could pretend that everything was alright. If no one else knew, there would be a few minutes of each day where he wouldn't know. The thoughts about the inevitable future of doctor appointments, sickness, worry about who he had infected, confirming his illness to the public and death would disappear and he could feel normal again. If everyone knew, that would no longer happen. There will always be the lingering knowledge that they are mentally calculating how many days left he had before he was bedridden or couldn't walk without clinging onto someone or couldn't talk, let alone sing. Pretending was safe. Pretending allowed it all to be okay. Even if it wasn't

 

"Darling, we need to talk."

The words that can change everything. 'We need to talk' is never a good thing. It means that they've found someone new, it means that they love you very much but it isn't going to be forever, it means they aren't too sure how much longer they are going to be around for. 

It was the only real time Freddie spoke about his illness.

The atmosphere was tense and had been all day. Everything that had been bottled up for the past year was about to spill out everywhere. He was sick of pretending. 

"I would like for you to take a seat." Freddie whispered, gesturing towards a small armchair that was sitting in front of him. Jim silently obliged. The Persian took a deep breath, blinking excessively. "You do know that I love you, right?" 

"Obviously I do. And I love you too."

Freddie closed his eyes and lifted his head up to the ceiling, a flicker of a smile coming across his face.

"Great." He muttered, his eyes staying shut. He hesitated for a second. "I have AIDS, darling. And if you want to leave it's fine." He shakily said, opening his eyes to stare at the white ceiling above him.

The reality felt like a fierce slap to the face. Thoughts ran through Jim's mind, in spite of the feeling that told him he already knew. And had known for a long time. 

"What?" Was the only thing he could muster.

"If you want to leave me, I understand. I won't hold you back." Freddie repeated, dragging a hand to caress the back of his own neck. Jim shook his head, incredulously. 

"I love you. I'm not going anywhere."

A nod and a tight hug was all he got in return. If anything else was said, one of them was going to crack. And that could never happen.

 

Freddie weakened as the press strengthened. They camped outside of Garden Lodge, shouting at any residents or visitors unfortunate enough to cross them, recording how long it had been since the last appearance of Mr Mercury.

Four days.

Five days.

Six days.

A week.

Two weeks.

Three weeks.

Four weeks.

They were there for it all, getting themselves excited over the 'big reveal'.

"No healthy person stays in their house for four weeks!"

"Just one little photograph, that's all. Then we'll put an end to all of those nasty rumours."

"We all know Freddie lad, there's no need to hide away for any longer."

"It was clear you were going to be infected as soon as you gave your band that poofter name."

Freddie tended to ignore them, to blank out their shouts and stick to the things that made him happy. The list of things that did make him happy grew smaller but it worked nonetheless. He liked to have Delilah sit next to him on his bed as he ate breakfast. He liked to call out to Jim while he was at work. He liked to sing, even when his throat was so infected all he could bring up was a mere rasp. He liked to fall asleep and wake up to Phoebe sitting by his bedside. Jim figured that it was the pure simplicity of it all. Just normal, everyday things. Just like how it was before he was ill.

 

It wasn't always like that. The last days were the worst. He couldn't stand, he couldn't eat and at some points, he could acknowledge things but couldn't respond to the world around him. He would lie in his bed, staring at the glaring light until someone came to prop him up. But then he would sit and stare. Jim often lied next to Freddie during these days, with one arm slung over his torso. Sometimes he would whisper things to Freddie, taking about anything positive. He spoke about his childhood in Ireland, how his mother reacted worst when he told her he wasn't particularly religious than when he came out and how he coped with nine siblings. Or he would talk about their relationship, their early days together. How happy Jim was when he finally found the person he had been waiting for all of his life. Whenever this happened, a familiar glint would appear in Freddie's eye and his mouth would slightly curve as if he was trying to smile.

He was always smiling. Even when him and Jim shared their last conversation, he smiled. 

It happened when they were lying together at night. Freddie was holding on to Jim's hand while cuddling up to him. The end of his life was only twenty four hours away. 

"Do you love me?" Freddie asked, lightly stroking Jim's hand.

"Yes, I do love you." Came the response, followed with a quick kiss on the head. That made him smile. 

"Do you remember when we first got together?" Questioned Freddie, in a hoarse voice.

"How could I forget? You only spoke to me because I reminded you of Burt Reynolds. I sometimes suspect that's the only reason you stayed with me."

"Burt Reynolds? Jesus, the press are right, I am a right old poof."

 

The press got the answer they wanted in the end. The fans were informed of their idol's death through a sleazy newspaper article. Friends and family were informed and the band were told. Jim didn't need someone to tell him, to his relief, he was there when Freddie died. Him and Phoebe. Freddie even died with a small smile.

 

It hurt at first. Jim couldn't listen to Freddie's music without crying. Nor could he watch videos of his lover without a heart ache. It didn't get better the pain never ceased or lessened. He learnt how to deal with it instead. He put his time into reminiscing about the good times and listening to fans speak up on radio stations about their love for the one and only. He knew they would meet again.

When Jim was in hospital with cancer, he kept that in mind. Phoebe came to visit Jim just before he died, to see how he was coping. Of course he was fine. 

Jim knew that he was finally going to be reunited with Freddie.


End file.
